


Symphony in E Sharp

by Portponky



Category: Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Cake, Character Bashing, Crack, Food, Food Kink, Food Sex, M/M, Minor Character Death, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Portponky/pseuds/Portponky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After filming, Ben and Martin go out to dinner and things get rather heated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symphony in E Sharp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kahvi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/gifts).



**Symphony in E Sharp**

 

Benedict jumped across the rooftops elegantly like an aerodynamic deer with an owl's face. Martin belly flopped behind him and rolled several times. “Hurry up, John, you rubbish cripple, we're going to miss Countdown.”

“CUT!” yelled the director, Steven Spielberg, “that was perfect. I think that's a wrap for the day.”

Martin and Benedict stepped down from the set. “Oh man,” said Martin, licking his lips, “I would kill for some chicken wraps right now.”

Benedict snooted disdainfully. It was customary for them to go out for Mexican food after a day of shooting, as a homage to Arthur Conan Doyle. Sometimes they would stay long in to the night drinking Mojitos and secretly holding hands.

Watson received a phone call. “It's your family,” said the police officer on the phone, “they've been killed in a tragic helicopter jousting accident. Especially your awful wife.”

His face fell off. He looked up to the top of the sound stage, and whimpered slightly. Deep down, his heart twinged. It was wrong of him to recruit a guide dog to be a helicopter pilot, but after all, guiding a person is more complicated than guiding a helicopter.

“Who was on the phone?” asked Benedict

“It doesn't matter, it wasn't important” said Martin before throwing his phone in to a bin so he would not receive more interruptions.

They left the set and handed their guns in at the security desk. They got in a yellow cab to their restaurant of choice, Howling Jack's, a prime Mexican eatery. Sherlock walked in the door and Martin heterosexually walked in the door behind him. Once they had penetrated the restaurant, a waiter took their deerstalkers and then escorted them to a table for two.

Being British, they ordered dessert to start off with. Benedict spoke between snoots. “The problem with hooking up with random guys is that they are always surprised by my massive cock.”

“It's not that big,” said Watson, “if your penis is represented by the American financial deficit, then my penis would be the hyperinflation of the Zimbabwean currency.”

Benedict agreed, snootfully. “You know what I find helps? If you take your shoe off, and rest it gently between your legs with your massive cock sort of resting inside it. Even in a place like this.”

“What, here? In a restaurant?” asked Martin, and instantly turned bright red and then blue and then back to his regular pinky goodness.

“Yes, right here,” Sherlock said, “let's do it right now. Let's put our massive cocks inside our shoes.”

Martin was hesitant at first, but warmed to the idea. He took his shoe off and unzipped his trousers. He started pulling out his massive penis, which took some time on account of its extensive length and girth. He placed it gently in to his shoe, and glanced across and saw Sherlock had done the same. The sensation of relaxation was immense, and Cumberbatch immediately popped a semi.

The waiter, Horatio, came back with their order. Benedict had a single strawberry bon-bon and Watson had a wedding cake. When the waiter left, they noticed that the shoes were gone and their nether regions were openly parading, so to speak. Horatio must have considered them litter and removed them. The situation was serious.

“Sherlock,” said Cumberbatch, “someone has taken our shoes. My massive cock is just hanging out like a horse's cock would be.”

“Mine too,” said Martin Freeman, “what are we going to do?”

“There's only one solution,” said Sherlock, “we're going to have to discreetly stuff our massive cocks in to the wedding cake and walk out of here with them hidden inside the cake.”

The thought of sliding his massive cock in to a cake was intensely erotic to Martin. He'd never considered it before. The feeling of sliding his giant massive cock in to the warm, creamy cake made him shiver with excitement. He immediately stood up and rammed his giant cock in to the cake. Cumberbatch followed suite.

As the moisture of the cake swilled around his throbbing nob, he couldn't resist thrusting in to it a couple more times. “What are you doing?” hissed Benedict “we're supposed to be discreetly making a cake-based getaway!”

Martin squinched. Benedict snooted back and Martin squinched again. “What? You're scared of making sweet love to a wedding cake? I thought you were the daring one. Come on, Benedict. Remember what we used to say about you? That you put the cum in Cumberbatch?

“I suppose you're right,” said Benedict, “I didn't mean to be a fucking puritan about this.”

The both immediately began pounding away at the cake. Dollops of cream started flying off and hitting other customers in the face and mouths. Deep in the cake, Martin felt something hard and warm. He wondered... could it be? The stiff end of Benedict's massive cock plunging in to the cake from the other side? His giant cock could not withstand any more and he blew wad after wad of thick cum all over the cake, his own face and across Benedict's chest. Benedict also ejaculated pretty much all over the place.

Horatio came over “I'm sorry gentlemen, but that behaviour is definitely not tolerated in our establishment. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Yeah, we better run for it,” said Lestrade, “we don't want to get a reputation for being public cake-fuckers.”

They chuckled as they hopped all the way home in time for Countdown.

 


End file.
